Blackout
by Romantique The Original
Summary: It is Gary Hobson's fate to keep harm from coming to others; however, this time, it is Gary himself who needs help.  His friend Marissa is along for the ride. WARNING: Chapter 3 is Rated M for suggestive sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Blackout 1/4

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Early Edition. Gary/Marissa, Hurt/Drama

Rating: T

Summary: It is Gary Hobson's fate to keep harm from coming to others; however, this time, it is Gary himself who needs help. His friend Marissa is along for the ride. (This fan fiction began as a Halloween challenge, but evolved into a stand-alone story.)

Disclaimer: This fan fiction occurs some time in Season 3, after Chuck leaves Chicago.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

_A/N: Maryilee, this fic is especially for you. Hope you and other Early Edition fans enjoy it._

_Late October__ ..._

For the man who received tomorrow's news today, life was far from routine. Bar owner, Gary Hobson never knew what the Paper had in store for him. From the moment the special copy of the _Chicago Sun Times_ hit his doorstep at 6:30 a.m. every morning, always accompanied by the same orange tabby, Gary was at the Paper's beck and call. The only routine in his life was having breakfast every morning at McGinty's with his friend, business partner, and confidante, Marissa Clarke. And this morning was no different.

"You _have_ to go to the bank with me," Marissa informed her friend in between sips of her coffee. She had known Gary long enough to know his reaction would be less than enthusiastic.

"Well ... um ... uh ... I don't know," he skillfully danced around her request ... without making a commitment.

"I'm sorry, Gary, but there's no other way," she persisted. "In order to get the improvement loan for the professional ovens, the bank requires _both_ our signatures be made in their presence with proper identification." McGinty's Bar and Grill was recently handed a citation for a safety inspection violation. The original ovens were no longer operational and were way overdue for replacement. "So, don't forget your wallet," she gently reminded him.

"Okay. I ... I know," he stammered while trying to maintain his non-committal air. "It's just that ... it's hard to commit to an appointment ... with the Paper and all," he tried to explain himself.

"Uh-huh," she answered with a bit of sarcasm, only too familiar with her friend's tendency to skirt his responsibilities where McGinty's was concerned.

Seeing that Marissa was clearly not buying his explanation, Gary quickly re-scanned the Paper and finally caved. "I guess I could meet you at the bank today at 11 o'clock, in between saving a lady choking on a California roll and breaking up a brawl between senior citizens over someone who cheats at Bingo."

"Great, 11 o'clock it is," she smiled with great satisfaction. "It won't take long. I promise. I made sure the loan documents are completely filled out except for the signatures."

Feeling more than a little bad that he always seemed to pawn off the responsibility of McGinty's onto Marissa, Gary gave a tight smile to his blind friend. "Thanks for taking care of McGinty's, Marissa. You're the greatest."

"Why, thank you, Gary Hobson," she smiled even broader. Her friend was so busy rescuing the world, for her to receive a compliment from him was a rare thing indeed. Not because he didn't have them, he just always had more important things on his mind.

"You're welcome," he said, and then hurriedly finished his bacon and eggs before taking off to prevent a pedestrian traffic accident.

_Later that morning ..._

At almost 10 minutes after 11:00 a.m., Gary literally ran into Chicago Community Bank to find Marissa seated in front of the desk of James L. Morris, Loan Officer.

"Sorry I'm late," Gary apologized to the both of them, out of breath and a bit disheveled in his appearance. Panting, he said, "I got here as soon as I could."

"I just need your identification, Mr. Hobson," the Loan Officer said with a weak smile, "your Drivers License and a major credit card?"

"Yeah, uh ... sure," Gary said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out his wallet. He then quickly handed the Loan Officer his identification.

Taking the ID, Mr. Morris stood and announced, "I need to make copies of these. I'll be right back."

Gary took a seat in the chair next to Marissa, fidgeting while watching the second hand tick away on the clock on the wall. Marissa could sense her partner's restlessness.

"Relax," she said, reaching over and placing a steady hand over his arm. "This will only take a minute, and then, it will be all taken care of."

Gary let out a sigh. "You ever have one of those days when everything is a beat off?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer because he didn't really want one. "Because that's the kind of day I've been having all morning. Things aren't running very smoothly. It's almost as if I hit a roadblock, everywhere I turn."

After he a beat, he continued to vent. "After I rescued the pedestrian, I ran into road construction on Wabash Avenue and had to go ¾ of a mile out of my way to get to the Japanese restaurant and get there in time to Heimlich the lady who choked on a piece of seaweed. _Then,_ after leaving the restaurant, the sewer overflowed and the street was closed by the Health Department ... causing me to have to take _another_ detour to the Bingo Parlor. I made it there with not a second to spare." He took in a breath and continued. "And _then,_ I took the bus ... and that rode behind this elderly driver who was driving as slow as molasses ... which is why I was late coming here." Stressed out, he shook his head. "It's bad enough to try and rescue people before it's too late, but when I can't get to where I need to go because of random ... stuff ... sometimes ... it's just a bit too much."

"Gary," Marissa, tried to offer some comfort. "You do know that you can't control _everything_?"

"Yeah ... well." Still fidgeting and still frustrated, he added, "I just hope the rest of the day runs smoother."

No sooner did that sentiment leave his lips, when three men wearing ski masks in the middle of October and brandishing firearms charged into the bank through its front doors, forcing an elderly security guard to lock everyone inside. Gasps of shock and dread could be heard around the great lobby.

Sensitive to her environment due to her blindness, Marissa whispered with alarm, "What's happening?"

Gary swallowed down the sudden tightness in his throat, as he placed a steady hand on Marissa's shoulder. Leaning toward her, he whispered, "A bank hold up. This wasn't in the Paper." Then, very quietly, he pulled the Paper out of the back pocket of his jeans and began quickly rifling through the front news section. "It still isn't. I don't understand."

"My God," Marissa uttered. Alarmed, she reached over to find Gary's hand. She grabbed it and held on tight.

The bank robber who was in front of the three yelled, "Everybody. On the floor!" His voice echoed throughout the great room.

"Here, get down," Gary whispered and helped a frightened Marissa out of her chair and down onto the floor. Then, just as he was about to take the space on the floor beside her, Mr. Morris came strolling back to his desk. Gary turned and watched in horror, as the unsuspecting Loan Officer startled the second robber who was standing guard for the other two. The masked man instinctively turned toward Mr. Morris and went to fire his automatic rifle.

"Noooooo!" Gary yelled as a warning to the Banker.

In the slow motion that comes from an intense rush of adrenaline, Gary sprung to his feet and leapt up towards the Loan Officer, pushing him out of harm's way. The bullet noticeably whirred past his ear. Knocking the Banker off his feet, Gary continued to fly through the air. At the last possible second before impact, Gary protectively tucked his head in, close to his chest. Unfortunately, his entire right side crashed into an unforgiving, vertical steel support beam, and he could hear a crack coming from deep inside. He then landed straight down the beam with a thud on the hard linoleum floor.

"Ahhhhhhh," Gary could hear himself yell, out-of-body and in pain, he grabbed for his shoulder.

Grateful to be alive, Mr. Morris suddenly sat up and helped his dazed and injured customer sit up off the floor by leaning Gary against the desk that was next to them.

"Gary?" Marissa turned, crawling towards the sound of all the commotion.

"Shut up!" the third robber yelled, as he rushed over to see what had just happened. He pointed his gun in between Marissa and the Loan Officer.

The air in the room thickened with tension, and the abrupt yelling echoed throughout the bank, causing Marissa to nearly jump out of her skin. She could smell the fear in the room, especially the fear coming from the shooter.

"She's blind," Gary blurted out, almost choking in pain.

"Is this the one who _had_ to be a hero?" the robber asked the shooter.

The irony of that statement struck both Gary and Marissa.

The shooter nodded in response to his accomplice's question, shaken by what had just happened. It had never been part of their plan to actually hurt anyone. Unbeknownst to everyone in the room other than the robbers, this latest development ratcheted everything up to a whole new level.

"She can't see," Gary struggled to speak through waves that made him both shaky and sick to his stomach. "That's why there was talking," he tried to explain.

In a hair-trigger reaction to this incredibly tense situation, the robber cold cocked the left side of Gary's face with the butt of his assault rifle.

"Gahhh," Gary stifled his cry for fear of being struck again. His face contorted in pain, as he grabbed his throbbing face with his left hand. With eyes tightly shut, he shook his head, literally seeing stars.

"I told you to shut up!" the robber yelled in an attempt to justify the assault.

Satisfied he had controlled the situation, the robber left, leaving the shooter to remain.

Quietly sobbing, Marissa shuddered at the brutality of these men. She couldn't just sit by, not knowing how badly Gary was hurt. He was her friend. He would do anything for her. He had already done everything for her. Tears of fear streamed down her mocha face. Without any regard for her own safety, she softly said, "He needs help." Then, protected only by grace, she begged, "Please ... let me go to him?"

After a moment of silence, it was obvious that Marissa was not threat to anyone. The shooter finally uttered, "Yeah, but keep the talkin' down, okay?"

"Thank you," Marissa nodded in unlikely gratitude. She then scurried on all fours in the direction of Gary's voice. "Gary ... Gary?" she whispered in a panic.

"Over here," Gary said softly to his friend, still holding onto his face. He was breathing hard.

"He's bleeding," Mr. Morris informed Marissa in a very low voice. "We need something to use as a compress," he whispered, thinking out loud.

Then, Mr. Morris removed a clean handkerchief from his coat jacket. He quickly folded it into a square. He then, moved Gary's hand away from the wound and pressed the make-shift compress tight against the wound on his temple. Next, he guided Marissa's hand and placed it on top of the handkerchief to hold it in place. Marissa could feel Gary's warm blood oozing through the cotton square.

"You want to maintain the pressure right here," Mr. Morris instructed.

To gain better leverage, Marissa situated herself closer beside her friend.

Satisfied these three were not going to cause any more trouble, the shooter left to join their leader at the bank's counters.

Marissa whispered to Gary, "How are you doing?"

"I've been better," Gary answered softly, feeling very light headed. He sounded funny, not at all like himself, and his left eye quickly swelled.

With tears still streaming down her face, she felt for his hand and squeezed. "You hang in there," she insisted.

"Uh-huh," he slowly nodded his throbbing, spinning head, leaning further in between the desk and Marissa for support.

The warmth of her body, her familiar presence, gave him some measure of comfort in stark contrast to the cold stemming from the metal desk. She continued to hold the compress to stop the bleeding. Gary meant to close his heavy eyes for just a moment to stop the room from spinning, but instead, he slipped into darkness.

Marissa immediately sensed the change, mirrored by a change in his breathing. "Gary?" she reached for his face with her free hand. She felt that his eyes were closed. "Gary, wake up. You need to stay awake," she pleaded.

Her dear friend lay against the metal desk, unresponsive to her pleas.

Marissa struggled to maintain her composure. She had to stay strong for Gary. She then placed her free hand over his chest. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt his chest slowly rise and fall. His breathing was shallow. Marissa placed her head on his chest with her ear to his heart and listened closely to its beating. And then, she prayed.

_To be continued ..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Blackout 2/4

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Early Edition. Gary/Marissa, Hurt/Drama

Rating: T

Summary: It is Gary Hobson's fate to keep harm from coming to others; however, this time, it is Gary himself who needs help. His friend Marissa is along for the ride. (This fan fiction began as a Halloween challenge, but evolved into a stand-alone story.)

Disclaimer: This fan fiction occurs some time in Season 3, after Chuck leaves Chicago.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

_Early afternoon ..._

Quite some time passed before Gary slowly began to come to. The left side of his face was swollen black and blue ... the left eye was completely shut.

"Marissa?" his right eye fluttered open. He woke to find her holding onto him.

"Oh, Gary," Marissa thanked God in utter relief. Still holding pressure on the head wound, she asked, "How are you feeling?"

His face felt cool but clammy.

"I'm okay," he said, heavily shading the truth, for he was not alright. He was dizzy, and pain seared through his shoulder and into his chest whenever he took in a breath.

It took a moment for him to gain his bearings, to remember where he was. "Where are _they_?" he finally asked, remarkably remembering to keep his voice down low. A brutal blow to the face would do that.

"I don't know. I heard their steps go off in that direction," Marissa answered and pointed to where she last heard them, behind the counter. "Gary, the police are here. They've surrounded the building."

"The Paper," he whispered, grimacing as he tried to shift his position.

He glanced up at the wall clock and wondered where the past several hours had gone.

Marissa chastised him, "Gary, you're in no shape to worry about the Paper."

"I need to see it," he spoke softly. "Can you reach it? It's on the floor, to your right."

"I'll try," she relented. But first, she took his hand and placed it over the thoroughly blood-soaked, makeshift compress. "Keep the pressure right here, okay?" she instructed him.

Then, she leaned to her right and felt all around the floor for the Paper with her hands which was indeed just to her right.

"There," she thought to herself upon feeling the folded Paper, and she started to pick it up.

"Be careful. Hold it from the edges," Gary warned, breathing a little harder. "You've got blood on your hands."

It was his blood. Disturbed by the thought, carefully and quietly, Marissa picked up the Paper and brought it to him. Then, she maneuvered it as Gary instructed until he could see it with his right eye.

"_Hostage Siege Goes Into Second Day,"_ Gary whispered upon finding the headline. He slowly read on a little further, in between painful breaths. _"Negotiations for release of the twelve hostages came to an abrupt halt when a second deadline for the release of injured hostages again came and went. A failed attempt by a SWAT team to enter the bank through the duct system was named as the cause of this latest stalemate."_

"Second day?" Marissa repeated. Upon hearing this, her resolve suddenly went flat, as if it was a balloon that had just been deflated.

The mere suggestion of remaining trapped for a second day caused her concern to increase by twenty-fold. For although the bleeding had slowed, Gary's head was still bleeding. He had lost consciousness. It hurt him to breathe. He was in urgent need of medical attention.

"Injured hostages?" Gary slowly repeated to himself. The plural _'hostages'_ caused Gary to find his own concerns. "Marissa? We've got to find a way to get outta here."

"But how?" Marissa whispered.

"There must be some way out," he spoke in a soft voice. Thinking, after a moment, he asked, "Where's the Loan Officer?"

"Mr. Morris?" Marissa softly called out behind them.

Quietly sliding over to them, the banker responded, "By now, I think you can call me Jim."

"Jim," she turned her face in the direction of her voice. "You work in this building," she began to explain. "Is there any way out that the robbers wouldn't know about?"

After a beat, Jim the Loan Officer answered, "No. But I often work nights, so I have a set of keys. If I could make my way to the front door, I could open it."

Gary looked over towards the front entrance of the Bank. "That's got to be 40 yards away. We'd need to create some kind of a distraction."

"What are you all talking about?" one of the robbers suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his gun in plain view.

Thinking quickly on her feet, Marissa calmly and evenly answered the man. Her prior psychology training was coming into play. She honestly believed this was a robbery gone wrong and that they didn't intend to hurt anyone. She refused to be frightened by these thugs any longer. "Sir," she respectfully addressed their captor. "My friend needs medical attention. Couldn't you let him go so that he can get the help he needs?"

"We're workin' on it, Lady," the man said in a bass voice. "If we get what we want, you'll all be home in time for dinner."

Still thinking, she added, "I don't mean to cause you any trouble, but I don't think he can wait that long."

This gunman looked over and took a good look at Gary for the first time. Gary was pale and clammy, and his was breathing labored. The gunman tightened his jaw and took in a deep breath. "You all sit tight. I'll be back," he firmly instructed and left them.

Once the gunman was out of earshot, Gary asked his dear friend, "What are you doing? You're drawing attention to us, not away from us."

Placing a steady hand on his shoulder, she asked in a whisper, "Do you honestly believe you could make it past 40 yards?"

As Gary attempted to shift his weight forward, he came dangerously close to passing out again from the intense, stabbing pain. He began to take controlled breaths, in and out, to keep from crying out. As much as he hated to admit it, Marissa was right. He wasn't going anywhere ... not under his own steam.

A few minutes later, the gunman returned with a woman who also was a banking customer. In her hand, she was holding a small First Aid kit.

"I'm a nurse," the older, red-headed woman said to Gary. "Let me take a look at you," she offered, and then, she kneeled down on the floor on the other side of him from Marissa.

"Hey! Just keep it down, okay?" the gunman insisted, as he allowed the woman to assist Gary. It was becoming obvious that he didn't want his partners seeing him showing them any sort of kindness.

The first thing the nurse noticed was the bleeding coming from Gary's temple and the swelling and contusions along the side of his face. She looked into his right eye and asked him to track the movement of her finger. Then, she took his pulse and respirations.

"Do you have a headache? Are you sick to your stomach?" she asked the injured man.

"Yeah," Gary slowly nodded. He really didn't want to be reminded.

"I'm almost certain you have a concussion," she ascertained from her very cursory exam under these stark circumstances.

She opened the Bank's First Aid kit and took out the antiseptic and some sterile gauze. She then, opened several packets of Band-Aids so that she could quickly move.

"Owwww," Gary recoiled as the nurse began to clean the angry, red head wound.

It burned. He clenched his jaw shut and tears came to his eyes, as she continued to dab the gash with the stinging liquid.

"Sorry," the woman apologized with a kindness in her blue eyes. "But I have to do this. Just take in as deep a breath as you can without hurting yourself."

The woman proceeded to follow up the cleaning with an application of antibiotic ointment and covered the wound with gauze, holding it in place with the Band-Aids. She could tell his face was cool, clammy.

"You need stitches," she said to Gary so that the gunman could hear her, too. "But maybe cleaning it will help keep infection at bay until we can get you to a doctor."

Then, she noticed he was holding his right arm tightly against his body.

"Where are you injured?" she asked. "Is it your arm?"

"I think it's the shoulder," he winced at the thought of her touching it. "Something cracked when I hit that post." Gary indicated the direction of the post with his head.

The nurse looked up at the steel post, cringing at the thought of colliding with it. She decided his injury could be one of several things. "We need to immobilize your arm. Take the weight of the arm off the shoulder."

Looking up to the gunman the nurse said, "I need something to use as a sling."

After a moment, Marissa piped up. "Would this help?" she asked, removing a long, ethnic scarf from around her neck.

"Yes. That will work just fine," the nurse nodded, taking the scarf from Marissa.

The nurse then looked over to Jim, the Loan Officer.

"I need you to help me sit him up," she said. Then, looking at Gary with firm compassion in her eyes, she said, "This going to hurt to move you before it feels better. You need to be ready for it."

Gary nodded, steeling himself prior to being moved.

"Okay, on the count of three," she then looked at Jim in the eyes. "One ... two ... three."

The two of them pushed Gary from a leaning to an upright sitting position.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh," Gary exhaled as stinging tears came to his eyes.

Jim held Gary upright while the nurse worked quickly and put his right arm in the scarf. She pulled the arm inside the scarf upwards and towards his body, placing the arm in neutral position. With Jim's help, they tied the scarf tightly around Gary's neck on the side of his uninjured shoulder.

After that long moment of agony, Gary finally felt a sudden relief from the searing pain. Unfortunately, that relief was only short-lived.

"Thank you," Gary said to the nurse, but then, he began to shake in a cold sweat.

The nurse asked, "Are you in pain?"

Gary answered, taking in a short breath. "I'm cold ... so cold." Then, his teeth began to chatter beyond his control.

"He's going into shock," the nurse called out in alarm. "I need a blanket ... something to give him warmth. And some water."

The nurse did not understand. Immobilizing the arm should in no way have caused him to crash.

"Here. Take this," Jim said, and he took off his wool suit jacket.

Jim Morris was a big man; and his jacket more than covered Gary's upper torso. Jim covered his wounded customer with the garment, as the nurse pulled it up close to Gary's chin and tucked it around this back. Once again, they leaned him back against the desk for support.

"Is that any better?" the nurse asked.

"Yeah, it's good," Gary answered, relishing the welcomed sense of warmth of the wool coat. Suddenly, he couldn't keep his good eye open much longer. The pain was too much to endure. It hurt to breathe. He was suddenly weak, as if he'd suddenly lost all his strength. "If I don't make it ..." he began. His mouth was so dry; he could hardly speak the words that were coming out of his mouth.

A second robber arrived with a coffee cup filled with water. He handed it to the nurse who offered Gary a sip. He promptly choked on it, bracing himself against the jarring, painful movements.

Alarmed by what she was hearing, at how quickly Gary was going downhill, Marissa was sitting quickly moved towards him. "Don't say that," she was beginning to become angry with him. "You're _going _to make it."

Gary Hobson felt very strange, as if he was hovering somewhere between this life and the one beyond. In all his many brushes with death while doing the Paper's bidding, he had never before felt so zapped of the strength to fight.

With his good eye finally closed, Gary barely whispered, "M'rissa. I don't think I can."

A wave of desperation came crashing over Marissa, and she turned towards the nurse, searching for answers.

Sharing Marissa's concern, the nurse pensively looked up at the gunman. "I've done all I can do here. This man needs to go to the hospital ... NOW."

Leaning in closer to Gary, Marissa whispered in his ear, "You can't leave me, Gary Hobson." She mustered up a well of emotional strength. "Do you hear me? I don't want to live in a world without you."

The sighted world had become a whole lot safer and friendlier since Gary Hobson came into her life. There was no way she would walk out of this bank without him.

If Gary wasn't strong enough to fight for his life, then she would do it for him.

_To be continued ..._


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Blackout 3/4

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Early Edition. Gary/Marissa, Hurt/Drama

Rating: This Chapter is rated M suggestive sexual content.

Summary: It is Gary Hobson's fate to keep harm from coming to others; however, this time, it is Gary himself who needs help. His friend Marissa is along for the ride. (This fan fiction began as a Halloween challenge, but evolved into a stand-alone story.)

Disclaimer: This fan fiction occurs some time in Season 3, after Chuck leaves Chicago.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

_Gary dreamt of another life in Chicago that included a loving wife, two small children, and a big yellow dog. He dreamt of working at McGinty's with his dear friend, Marissa, going to Bears' games, and visiting his parents with his loving family for the Holidays. But nowhere in his dreams were the Paper or the big orange tabby to be found. He was free to live his own life without any worries of others, except for his loved ones._

_He dreamt it was Halloween, and he was out 'Trick or Treating' with his wife and two children who were dressed up as two of the three Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Michelangelo and Raphael. Those two were the children's favorite turtles._

"_Zeke! Wait for your sister," Gary called out to his son. Young Zeke ran ahead of his younger sister so that he could arrive first at the next house ... as if arriving first would somehow guarantee that he would win and receive more candy._

_It was a clear, autumn night. The air was nippy, and the smell of an occasional wood burning fire place lightly danced in the air. Gary pulled his wife, Shannon, in closer to snuggle as they waited on the sidewalk for their children to visit this next house. Their yellow Labrador, Daisy, pulled against her leash to greet the children as they raced back to their parents to show them what the nice lady in the blue duplex placed in their pillow cases. Gary held onto the leash to hold Daisy, nice and steady._

"_The nice lady gave you two Hershey bars?" Gary asked his young daughter, Kelsey, upon seeing the latest additions to her night's collection of treats. "Did she give you one to share with me?" _

"_Okay," his little daughter happily laughed, her tiny cheeks kissed by the cool, October air. An impish grin came over her face. "Again?" she begged to go to the next house._

"_Well ... alright. Two more houses," Shannon, playfully relented by holding up two fingers. "And then, it's a warm bath before bed for the both of you."_

_Shannon gave her husband a loving squeeze around his middle as they made their way down the street to the next house. _

_Gary was happy. He was fulfilled and had everything he ever wanted._

~ . ~ . ~

Despite repeated pleas from Marissa and Anne, the gunmen refused to allow Gary to leave or for medical help to come in. Instead, they continued to assure their hostages that they were very close to working out an agreement for their release with the Police. Anne told them under no uncertain terms that she did not believe Gary would be able to make it much longer without medical care.

Tossing his head back and forth and drenched in perspiration, Gary had been placed lying on his back, on the floor of the Bank. The Loan Officer's jacket had been folded to use as a pillow in order to raise Gary's head off the hard floor and to keep his airway clear.

Over the past hour, Gary had gone from being cool and clammy to very warm and flushed with fever. Although the nurse had no way to know for certain how high a fever he was running, she ascertained it was 103 degrees and probably higher. The fever needed to be brought down. Anne found paper towels in the Ladies' room, and she bathed Gary's face and neck with the rough towels that she soaked in cool water. Marissa placed ice chips on his feverish lips, allowing chips to melt their tiny droplets of cool water into his fevered mouth.

As the afternoon faded into evening, Gary moaned and whispered utter gibberish in between shallow breaths. His right eye would occasionally open, glazed and bloodshot with fever, staring past everyone and everything. It was as if no one was there behind his eyes.

"What's your name?" the nurse finally asked Marissa. She felt it would be better if they were on a first name basis, as she had no idea how the next hours would unfold.

"I'm Marissa. Marissa Clarke," Marissa stoically answered. "And this is my friend, Gary Hobson," she explained. "And you? What's your name?"

"Hi. I'm Anne Donahue," she responded, wringing out another cool paper towel to apply to Gary's forehead. "Wish we could have met under different circumstances."

"No kidding," Marissa agreed.

As Anne began to gently place cool, new towel on Gary's forehead, he fitfully reached up with his free left hand and tried to fight her off. In response, she tried to hold his arm steady with both of her hands.

Caught off guard, Anne called the Loan Officer who was still nearby with a great urgency in her voice. "Jim, help me."

Jim rushed over to her.

"Would you find me a pair of scissors, please?" she asked. "Quickly," she added, still concentrating on holding Gary's arm down.

"Sure," Jim answered. He went around to the other side of his desk and pulled a pair of scissors out of its top drawer. He quickly returned and handed them to Anne.

She continued, "And would you take over for me? Hold his arm down by his side?"

Luckily for them, Gary's right arm was immobilized by the sling. Jim immediately did as he was told and held down the left arm.

Once Anne was safe from being hit by her patient, she hurriedly began cutting the front of Gary's sweater down the middle, from the bottom hem, all the way up to the ribbing at its neck. After making the last cut, she peeled the sweater open. She could feel heat radiating from his body.

Then, she quickly ripped Gary's button up shirt, all the way open. Tiny white shirt buttons popped off, flying in every direction. Then, she had to cut through the center of his t-shirt, the final layer of hi clothes in the same manner she had cut open the sweater. She cut with such speed and precision; it was obvious she had done this before.

"What's happening?" Marissa asked.

"He's delirious," Anne answered, as she continued to cut the shirt. "I've almost got his clothing cut away so that we can do a better job of cooling him down." Then, she further explained, "Marissa, we need to keep doing what we're doing to try and keep his fever down. If it goes up any higher, he could go into convulsions."

"Convulsions?" Marissa did not understand.

"Yeah," the Anne responded. "You know, seizures?"

As the nurse made the final cut, she peeled the t-shirt out of the way. She immediately felt a tremendous wave of heat radiating from Gary's skin. Anne worked quickly and placed cool, wet towels over his chest, abdomen, and neck, being careful not to disturb the injured shoulder. His tortured body immediately responded to the drastic cooling efforts. His fitful delirium began to calm and his breathing immediately slowed.

After a moment, Jim asked, "Hey, Anne. Did you see this?" From his vantage point, he pointed to Gary's bare right side.

Anne leaned over and was stunned to see the extent of bruising along Gary's side, bruising that appeared to go around and towards his back. She had thought only his shoulder and arm had been injured. Evidently, the impact against the support beam had injured his entire right side.

"Pneumonia?" Anne whispered to herself.

She lowered her head closer to his mouth and carefully listened to his breathing. She heard a distinct rattling stemming from his chest.

"I think he has pneumonia," she finally said aloud. "No wonder he crashed so quickly." It was all beginning to make sense.

"Oh, my God," Marissa extemporaneously uttered, shaking her head in sadness and desperation.

Marissa could not believe it. How did things turn so bad so fast? She immediately thought of the Paper. If only she could see to read it, then perhaps it could tell her something that could help her help Gary. Should she dare show the Paper to either Jim or the nurse? Or would Gary be furious with her for breaking their sacred trust ... if he could even survive this horrible ordeal that he had been unable to prevent.

And why was Gary unable to prevent the bank robbery? Why would the Paper not allow him to see it before it happened? The Paper allowed him to see other near misses involving himself, Marissa, Chuck, and his parents. What was so different this time?

Now, it was Marissa's head that was spinning.

She continued to try and cool his mouth with chips of ice. At this moment, nothing made sense, as she felt the hot, feverish breath of her dearest friend against her fingers and heard his fitful words which made absolutely no sense.

Marissa Clarke was alone to make this decision, and she needed to make it now.

~ . ~ . ~

_Floating in the ethers between chills and fevered delirium, Gary returned to the life he had always wanted. Still Halloween night, the kids were fast asleep in their beds. Shannon had allowed them to eat two pieces of their favorite candies, saving the rest for the days and days to come._

_Coming from the kitchen of their small, 3-bedroom flat around the corner from McGinty's, Shannon took a seat on the sofa beside her husband. She came bearing gifts: Irish red ale to go with the Reuben sandwiches she had made for dinner. Something they usually did not do, the two ate a late dinner on the coffee table. Walking in the crisp night air had made the both of them ravenous._

"_These look so good," Gary smiled. "Is the red ale for Halloween?" he chided a little._

_Returning the smile, Shannon nodded. "Red ... orange ... it's close. It may be a bit of a stretch."_

_With his mouth full, he said, "We need to put this sandwich on the menu. Yours are so much better than the ones at McGinty's."_

"_You're funny," Shannon laughed. "These are the same ones on McGinty's menu. I bought the Reuben sauce from Franco. You just must be hungrier than usual."_

_He looked over with a full mouth and smiled at his wife. "Maybe so."_

_Shannon was absolutely stunning. Her long, auburn hair framed her beautiful angular face that was perfectly softened by dimples. And her eyes drew him in like two, sapphire pools. She was tall and athletic, yet feminine in her curves. Gary was very much in love and still very much attracted to his wife. She was decent and kind, smart and funny. She was a good mother and a wonderful wife and lover. Shannon was everything he ever wanted in a mate, a life partner._

_After their late, impromptu dinner, Gary helped Shannon clean up the kitchen before they headed off to bed. Shannon always took the children to school while Gary headed over to McGinty's to meet Marissa for their daily breakfast meeting. Only now, Gary and Marissa would talk about their day as friends and, of course, McGinty's. _

_Later, Shannon would join Gar and Marissa there and take care of the ordering for the bar, the bar staff's uniforms, and any other little odds and ends that would come up. Marissa and Shannon had become very good friends over the years. In addition, McGinty's had become Shannon's business, too, and she treated it as the family business._

_Yes, Gary Hobson was an extremely happy man. It was as if he had finally arrived 'home.' He couldn't help but believe that this was his reward for saving all those lives in the Paper._

_After the kitchen was cleaned and the dishes placed in their proper places, Shannon began to whisper sweet nothings into her husband's ear and then, passionately kissed him. Returning the kiss, Gary's body immediately responded to hers. She seductively led him to the privacy of their bedroom and began to make slow, sensual love ... almost as if it was the first very time for the both of them. Once he was at the brink and could take it no more, he took her not once, but twice ... until she collapsed in complete satisfaction. It was only then that he allowed himself to reach an all-encompassing release of his own. They held one another through the night in their sleep. _

~ . ~ . ~

And Gary continued to dream.

_To be continued ..._


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Blackout 4/4

Author: Romantique

Email:

Classification: Early Edition. Gary/Marissa, Hurt/Drama

Rating: T

Summary: It is Gary Hobson's fate to keep harm from coming to others; however, this time, it is Gary himself who needs help. His friend Marissa is along for the ride. (This fan fiction began as a Halloween challenge, but evolved into a stand-alone story.) Disclaimer: This fan fiction occurs some time in Season 3, after Chuck leaves Chicago.

Legal: These characters do not belong to me. I'm just a fan and have not made a dime. Please email me to obtain permission to post.

The hands on the wall clock in the Bank lobby continued to tick away the minutes. As the day turned into night, the lights inside the bank, which were on a timer, began to dim one by one. It was becoming more and more obvious to the hostages that the Police and the gunmen were no closer to reaching an agreement for their release. The only positive development of the evening was the delivery of pizzas and sodas. However, even that development quickly turned negative.

The gunmen were so distrustful of the Police, they forced the hostages to eat and drink the delivered items before they would touch them. This made for a tense and stressful couple of hours despite assurances from the Police that no tampering had occurred. Several times, Anne was pulled away from Gary's side to check on fellow hostages who complained about a headache or stomach ache after eating the pizza. Once ample time had passed, she ascertained that these random complaints were caused by the stress of being in a hostage situation.

Eventually, the gunmen seemed to be satisfied no drugging or poisoning occurred, and they also ate for the first time all day. Afterwards, they began to settle into a routine of leading hostages to the restrooms in groups at regular times, a further signal to the hostages that they were not going anywhere before the next sunrise.

Gary, Marissa, Jim, and Anne continued to be kept separate from the others, who were housed on the far side of the bank, on the other side of the counter, in an office. The gunmen would move back and forth, keeping watch on the two groups.

The situation in the Bank had been too fluid for Marissa and Jim to plan a move. Hushed discussions between Jim and Marissa were repeatedly interrupted by changing developments and compounded by Gary's deteriorating condition. However, the need for an escape plan increased with each passing hour. There was nothing they could but to patiently wait for everyone, including the gunmen, to quiet down for the night. Then, maybe, they could make a move.

Night time is also when fevers have a tendency to spike. Such was the case on this night. Gary drifted in and out of both chills and fever. In his delirious state, he fitfully whispered the names of Shannon, Zeke, and Kelsey, among other random things. As Marissa had never heard these names before, she surmised they were most likely people he had rescued in the past or worse, failed to rescue.

She often wondered how her friend coped with the enormous burden of the memory of those he could not save. She knew there were a few, and that he did not like to talk about it, not even to her. Occasionally, he would mention having a nightmare, without going into any detail. She always felt he had some demons he held deep inside. She had enough psychology education to know that wasn't a healthy thing to do. However, she never judged her friend. For no matter how close she was to Gary and the Paper, Gary's path was his and his alone. No one could know what it was like to be Gary Hobson, except for Gary Hobson.

Suddenly, Marissa's thoughts returned to what was before her, when Gary began to have more trouble breathing. He began to wheeze, working harder to get air into his lungs. It was one of the most alarming sounds she had ever heard.

"He needs the kind of help I can't give him here," Anne warned Jim and Marissa, shaking her head in frustration and with finality in her voice. She had warned the gunmen all day of Gary's deteriorating condition, but to no avail.

Anne knew that if Gary wasn't put on oxygen and antibiotics very soon, he would not make it until the morning.

Tugging on Jim's nearby arm as signal, Marissa was ready to go; however, Jim had reason for hesitation. He was a large man and was afraid he would be seen. Marissa refused to leave Gary, and Gary needed the nurse. So, they decided there was only one thing they could do ... leave together.

Marissa removed her shoes so as to not make any noise against the tiled floor. Jim then held her by her shoulders and pointed her in the right direction, giving her bearings. Next, he quietly explained how she needed to insert the key, upside down. He told her the keyhole was underneath the right door handle. Her heart was pounding out of her chest, as she began the long trek to the front door of the bank.

In the meantime, Jim and the nurse lifted a limp, semi-conscious Gary into a secretarial chair. Jim removed his extra large belt and used to strap Gary to the chair. Gary uttered a low groan until Anne leaned down near his ear and softly said, "Shhhhhhhh."

Ever so quietly, Marissa reached the door and frantically felt for the key hole. The cool glass and a vertical metal strip told her that she was in the right vicinity. Finally, she felt the door handle, and just as Jim told her, the keyhole sat right beneath. She inserted the key and turned it clockwise, as instructed, until she heard a "click."

At that very moment, Jim and Anne also removed their shoes, as well as Gary's and began to push the wheeled, secretarial chair towards the front door. Gary was turned to their rear, his legs extended out with his socked heels dragging on the floor. Jim and Anne pushed with super human strength.

Marissa began to push the door open when the force of Jim and Anne made the door fly open.

"Hold your fire! Stand down!" the SWAT Commander spoke directly into his walky-talky, to the SWAT team. "Hostages are coming out!"

The men, who comprised some of Chicago's Finest, held their collective breaths as they watched three figures wheel a 4th injured figure out of the bank. As they exited the Bank, it became more and more apparent that these were hostages who had managed to escape. Two officers ran up to them, signaling them to remain quiet and calm, and they were ushered over to the side of the road. One of the officers grabbed Gary under his arms and found that he was strapped to the chair. Then, the two officers grabbed the chair, picked it up, and ran to the road to join the others. An ambulance was standing by on the far, far side of the bank. After a moment, two paramedics joined the hostages and the two officers with a gurney.

Three more officers joined the group, as Jim was quickly debriefed on where the gunmen were, how many there were, how much fire power did they have, how many hostages remained. In the meantime, one of the medics slapped an oxygen mask on Gary's face as he was loaded onto they gurney. And IV line was established as Anne debriefed the medics. Soon, he was moved to the back of the ambulance, and Marissa and Anne were allowed to accompany him to the Emergency Room.

~ . ~ . ~

Gary woke feeling woozy and confused. His surroundings slowly came into focus¸ and he found himself lying in bed in a hospital room, hooked up to an IV and monitoring equipment. His friend Marissa was seated near his bedside where she maintained her vigil. She heard him stir.

"Gary?" she was somewhat startled. "Are you awake?"

"Uh, yeah," he answered, habitually reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair with his left hand, until an IV line prevented him from bending his arm. He was more than a little disoriented.

Finally, he became more and more aware of his body. He hurt. In addition to the IV line, he had a nasal cannula bringing oxygen into his nostrils. His right arm was immobilized in a blue sling over his hospital gown. His left eye remained swollen shut, and the entire left side of his face and head ached.

"It's about time," Marissa added. "You've been out for two days." A moment later, Marissa asked, "Would you buzz for the nurse? She asked to be buzzed as soon as you woke up."

Gary took in a shallow breath and searched for the buzzer cord. Once he found it, wound around the bed rail, he pressed the call button as Marissa had asked. Less than a moment later, a nurse entered his room. Coincidentally, Anne had been assigned to his case, the same nurse who helped him at the Bank.

"Look who's awake," the nurse remarked with a smile on her face. Then, she became very professional. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Uh ... Gary," he answered, still out of it. "Gary Hobson," he expounded. His voice was scratchy, his mouth was dry. "Can I have some water?" he croaked.

"Sure," Anne said, as she poured some water in a cup with a straw. "But sip this slowly, okay?"

Gary nodded, as he slowly sipped the entire 4 ounces of the liquid bliss.

"Very good," the nurse nodded when he finished. "Do you know where you are?" She then popped a thermometer in his mouth.

He looked around, still somewhat dazed. "In the hospital?" he asked, trying to keep the thermometer under his tongue as he spoke.

"That's right," the nurse verified. "Do you know why you are in the hospital?"

"The bank," he began slowly. Then, the expression on his face changed to one of distress. "There was a hold up ... at the bank."

"That's right," Anne said, and then, she quickly shifted tone to assure him. "You're safe now, Gary. It's all over."

"And the others?" he asked, searching the nurse's eyes for answers. He remembered there were others.

"SWAT was able to enter the building," Marissa placed her hands gently on Gary's slinged arm to reassure him. "Everyone's okay. Even the gunmen. No one was injured ... except for you."

Gary closed his eyes and swallowed with the thermometer still in his mouth. "Good," he mumbled, trying to keep his lips closed. He vaguely remembered something about the Paper reporting a failed rescue attempt on the first day, causing the incident to go into a second day. But _something_ must have changed or happened for the Paper's version _not_ to happen. With Anne standing there in the room, he couldn't ask Marissa about it, so he decided to let it go until later.

Looking at her wristwatch, Anne took the thermometer out of Gary's mouth after the requisite three minutes and proceeded to read it. "99.8. It's moving in the right direction," she reported with a smile on her face. She then put her stethoscope into her ears and listened carefully to his breathing. "Also much better. You're responding well to the antibiotics. You're lucky you only fractured your ribs. You could have punctured your lung."

She removed the stethoscope out of her ears and continued, "I'll let the Attending know you're awake. He'll be in soon. Also, Respiratory Therapy will be coming to see you today to begin breathing treatments to help you get over the pneumonia."

Then, Anne approached his bedside and looked into his eyes, checking them for focus and tracking, routine for a patient who had sustained a head injury such as his.

Suddenly, Gary found himself lost in her eyes.

"I don't mean to stare." Gary slowly uttered what was almost an apology for his strange reaction. "You look so familiar."

"She should," Marissa interjected, suddenly realizing that Gary had never really "seen" her before. "Anne saved your life."

Gary was still puzzled. He remembered the hold up. He remembered injuring his right side saving the Loan Officer. But he could not place this lady.

Anne re-introduced herself to him. "I'm a nurse here at the hospital. But lucky for you, I also just happened to be banking on the same day you were injured."

Still confused, he continued staring into her eyes and strangely thinking to himself, _"No, that wasn't it."_

Marissa added. "Anne took care of your injuries and kept your fever down until we could get you out of there."

Even though he still couldn't remember that, he said, "Thank you?"

Anne was looking at the stitches on his left temple. The wound looked good. "Oh, you're very welcome," she said, as she went on to check in vital signs. Then, she began making small talk. "I do feel like I know you, though, Gary. Marissa's told me all about you."

"_Uh-oh,"_ Gary again thought to himself. Surely, he must be mistaken.

"That you are _such_ a good person and a good friend," Anne continued. "Are you married?"

Even more confused, Gary slowly answered her, as she took his pulse, "Noooooo?"

He was more than a little hesitant to answer Anne's question because quite frankly, this nurse who evidently saved his life seemed a little old for him.

"I should introduce you to my daughter," Anne went on, and she began to write his vitals into his chart.

"Oh, you have a daughter?" Marissa asked the nurse.

Looking up from the chart, Anne said, "Yes. Her name is Shannon. She's in her last year at Loyola ... studying to become a social worker." It became obvious Anne was very proud of her daughter.

It was at that instant Gary looked over at the woman's hospital name badge that hung from a lanyard around her neck. Her large photo I.D. read _"Anne Donahue, R.N."_

He immediately returned his gaze to her eyes.

"_Oh, my,"_ he thought to himself. In a flash, much like a bolt of lightning, he suddenly recognized when and where he had seen those sapphire blue eyes. _"Shannon Donahue. My wife ... my __**future**__ wife."_ Shannon had her mother's eyes. In contrast to his mental fogginess, suddenly everything became crystal clear: Anne Donahue, the woman who saved his life at the bank, was her mother ... his future mother-in-law.

A peaceful, knowing smile slowly grew over Gary's face, even on the injured side. What Marissa had told him was true: He could not control everything, especially when it came to the Paper. And he thanked God he could not.

And then, he answered, "Yeah, I'd really like that. I mean ... meet your daughter some time."

_-fin-_


End file.
